C is for Cash Cab
by Jelsemium
Summary: Technically, this is a crossover with Cash Cab. However, there's a special guest appearance by my favorite character from CSI: NY!
1. Chapter 1

C is for Cash Cab

This story is dedicated to JLM110108, AuntieAmy, Suisan, Ely1996 and DigeeDiva 'cause they rock.

Not that you don't, mind you.

* * *

The cab driver ran his hand over his close-cropped hair, and then pulled an old Brooklyn Dodgers cap over his eyes. He began to narrate, film noir style, to an unseen audience. "The rain had stopped, but it was still uncomfortably chilly in the City That Never Sleeps," the driver declared in ominous tones.

"It was late in the afternoon and the streets were filled with people anxious to get home to their warm houses, to get to their warm hotel rooms, or to just get into a warm taxi."

He spotted three people huddled in their overcoats, looking like refugees. The older man had his left arm wrapped around the woman. His right arm was held awkwardly to his side and the driver could see a streak of white that looked like a sling.

There was a younger man on the woman's left who was anxiously scanning the street.

"The cab driver spotted three likely contestants and decided it was time to swoop to the rescue, or is that to the attack?" he intoned. He suited action to words. The van style yellow cab nosed its way to the curb.

The older man leaned closer to the woman and said something. Both the woman and the younger man raised their hands as if to answer a question posed by the teacher. The cabbie smiled just a tad to acknowledge that they were hailing him. There would be a lot of questions answered soon.

The younger man pulled open the door and stood back to let the woman enter first. As she clambered into the back seat, he hesitated and looked at the older man, who gestured for him to precede him into the cab.

The older man climbed in and awkwardly pulled the door shut. As he turned around, he looked at the license posted between the driver's cockpit and the passengers. The name read "Ben Bailey", but the picture was so faded that it could have depicted anybody.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

The younger man said nothing, but his eyes widened a trifle in recognition. The cab driver tapped the side of his nose, like he was a character in the Sting.

"Laight Street and West," the older man instructed. "90 Laight Street to be specific." He pulled his seatbelt around left handed and managed to get it buckled.

"Ah, the Park Right Garage," Bailey said after a brief pause to consult his GPS.

"Yeah."

"Going for a little jaunt?" Bailey persisted. "Perhaps do a little sight-seeing?"

"Yes," the older man said with forced patience. "We'd like to see something besides the city lights."

"Good idea," Bailey replied. "But before you do so…"

There was a blare of music and the roof of the cab lit up like Times Square.

The woman in back squealed, put her arms over her head and pulled her feet up. The younger man shrank into the corner, although he didn't look especially surprised at the display.

The older man looked as if he was ready to leap back onto the frosty street.

The cab driver's voice stopped all action in the back. "You guys are in the Cash Cab. That's the game show that takes place right here in this taxi."

The woman stared at the cab driver for a moment, relief evident on her face. After a few moments she found her voice. "Oh, I've seen this show! It's on Discovery Channel, usually between Dirty Jobs and Deadliest Catch."

She put her feet down, and then pulled her bag up and clutched it to her chest as if not trusting the cleanliness of the cab's floor.

"How appropriate," the younger man said. Apparently not entirely convinced that nobody was going to start shooting, he straightened up cautiously.

The older man still looked ready to leap into the street.

The cab driver smirked. "As you can see, my name is Ben Bailey and I'll be your host. I'll be asking you trivia questions all the way to your destination. The more you answer, the more money you'll win."

He grinned evilly. "The catch is... get three strikes and I will kick you out of the cab right onto the street where-ever that happens to be!"

The older man looked at the younger man, who shrugged.

"So, whaddya say? You wanna play?" asked the cab driver.

The older man twisted slightly to look over his shoulder at the woman.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," the woman said. "It's too late to back out now."

The older man glared at her, and then transferred the glare to the younger man, who shrugged again.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea!" protested the younger man. "Besides, what do you have to lose?"

"Aside from getting kicked out into the cold?" the older man asked dryly.

"It'll be miserable trying to find another cab," the cab driver argued, gesturing towards the on-going struggle between pedestrians on the sidewalk. "You could be stuck here for hours trying to find another."

The older man sighed. "Well, it looks as if we have no options," he said in resignation.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Bailey observed.

"He's just worried about looking bad on TV," the younger man said. This earned him an annoyed look.

The older man shrugged and sighed. "Popular culture isn't our strong suit," he said.

"Okay, before we play, there are a few more rules you need to know. You have two shout-outs, a street shout-out to whomever you can flag down where we are. Plus you have a mobile shout-out to whoever you think can answer your question."

"Lovely," murmured the older man.

"So, you ready?" Bailey asked.

"Lay on, MacDuff," the younger man said cheerfully.

"Not wanting to sit here all day, I'm forced to concur," the older man said.

The Cash Cab pulled out. "So, what are your names?"

"I'm Amita," the woman released her grip on her oversized bag long enough to give a little wave.

"Charlie," the younger man supplied.

The older man sighed and squirmed in his seat. "Lawrence," he said at last.

"Ooo-kayyy, Anita, Charlie and Lawrence, you have twenty-one blocks to rack up as much cash as you can. Are. You. Ready?"

"Only if you call me 'Ammmmmmita,' not 'Anita'," Amita said with a small grimace.

"Ah, sorry," Bailey said. "Well, that's the Cash Cab's first strike ever! Two more of those, and I'll have to get out and let one of you drive!"

"Not Charlie!" both Lawrence and Amita blurted.

Bailey laughed but didn't make any further comment on that. "Okay, here's your first question for twenty-five dollars. Applying the same principles as a hovercraft, what popular arcade game features handheld mallets and floating pucks?

"That'll be Air Hockey, Ben," Charlie replied. There was a pause.

Bailey checked over his shoulder. "You're in the hot seat, Lawrence. You have to deliver the official answer before time runs out."

Lawrence straightened up as if stung. "Oh, I see. As Charlie said, it's Air Hockey."

"Correct! You've just won twenty-five dollars!" Ben grinned. "You're second question is... Represented by the 16th letter of the Greek alphabet, this irrational number is also known as Archimedes constant."

"PI!" all three blurted, even before their brains could kick into gear.

"That is correct, you're now up to fifty dollars!" Ben said. His eyes beneath the Brooklyn Dodger cap sparkled maliciously. "Next twenty-five dollar question, in 2006, what hit TV show was criticized by the Dean of West Point for depicting torture as an effect interrogation technique?"

His dark eyes met Charlie's and he seemed to be giving the younger man a warning.

Lawrence looked at Charlie, who shrugged. Lawrence looked over his shoulder at Amita, who was looking at the floor as if hoping to find the answer there. That left him on his own. "Um, _Alias_," he guessed.

"Oh, no! That's strike one!" Ben said. "The correct answer is _'24'_."

"Never watched that," Lawrence said with a sigh.

Ben took one hand of the steering wheel long enough to shake his finger at his passengers. "Be careful. Two more wrong answers and I'll have to kick you out of the cab." He caught Charlie's eye and emphasized his warning. "No matter _where_ we are. I don't want to do that!"

Charlie shivered a little and wrapped his arms around his chest. "No, it's kind of cold out there," he said.

"Well, shake it off, Professor," Bailey advised. "'Cause here comes your last twenty-five dollar question. What former NASA consultant is now known as TV's "science guy"?"

"Bill Nye the Science Guy!" Amita blurted out immediately.

Lawrence repeated her answer.

"Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! You're up to seventy-five dollar BILLs!" He smirked.

Amita looked down at her shoes, apparently to hide the little smirk of triumph.

"Now we're on to the fifty dollar questions, and they're a bit harder," Ben warned.

"Lovely," Charlie muttered. He looked out of his window as if contemplating jumping out into traffic.

"Ah, such wonderful enthusiasm," Ben said. He practically oozed enthusiasm himself. "In the world of poker, what is the term for a behavioral tic that gives away a player's hand?"

"Tic?" Charlie murmured. He looked over his shoulder at Amita, who dropped her eyes to her feet. "Megan must have talked to you about that," she murmured.

"Five seconds…" Bailey warned.

"She did... what the... TELL!" Charlie blurted out the answer and Lawrence echoed it.

"That's right!" Ben forced a laugh. "Good work! You pulled that out at the last minute."

"Oh, spare me," muttered Lawrence.

"You want to change seats?" Charlie asked, earning a dirty look in return.

"Go ahead, Ben," Amita called from the back. "We're ready!"

"Here's an apetizing tidbit," Ben said. "What type of food was once advertised as "the other white meat"?

"Turkey," responded Lawrence without consulting the others.

"Ouch! Oh, no! That's strike two!" Ben cried. "One more and you're out! Pork! Pork is the other white meat!"

All three passengers looked outside the cab, as if trying to judge their odds of getting another cab.

"We're going to wind up walking if you keep answering without thinking," Charlie informed the older man.

Lawrence gave him yet another dirty look.

"Things have taken an ugly turn in the cash cab," the driver intoned. "Here's a shot at redemption. More obvious in a man's neck, the laryngeal prominence is more commonly referred to by this biblical name."

There was a long pause as the three passengers looked at each other blankly.


	2. Chapter 2

"This will be strike three!" Ben looked around.

"I'll have to let you out in the middle of some traffic tie up." He craned his neck to spot the source of the tie up. "And, geez, I haven't seen this many cops around since the St. Patrick's Day parade. If I kick you out now, they may bust you on general principle!"

Lawrence twisted around and glared at the other two. "This is not a time to get stupid on me," he said.

"Don't forget about your shout outs," Ben advised them.

All three looked around at the traffic jam.

"Doesn't look like there's anyone here to ask but the cops," Amita said. She sounded nervous. She leaned forward slightly. "We could call our boss... or Charlie's dad."

"Bah," said Lawrence. "I know who to call." He pulled out a cellphone and punched in a number with unusual force. After almost thirty seconds, he spoke. "Hello, JAMES?" he enunciated everyword clearly, probably due to a poor connection. "Yes, it's LAWRENCE. Yes, we're on our way. Yes, in a cab."

He paused to listen. "Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control, we wound up on a televsion game show known as Cash Cab... Well, if I had been presented with a _viable_ alternative to taking a taxi in the first place...

"Yes, I know we are on a tight schedule, which is why we cannot afford to be ejected from the cab. Especialy not since the army of traffic cops around here looks to be in a foul mood."

Ben manuevered the cab around the obstacles and into a narrow alley. Charlie looked at the GPS screen and then looked out the window, as if trying to match the notations on the screen with what he could see.

Lawrence paused again. "Yes, that' exactly the reason I called you. We are on our third strike, therefore, we're in danger of getting kicked out. No, I don't know when this episode will air. Anyway, the question is... More obvious in a man's neck, the laryngeal prominence is more commonly referred to by this biblical name."

Another pause, and then a look of relief passed over his face. "Oh, of course, I should have remembered that. Yes, we'll take this up later. Good-BYE!" he flipped the cellphone shut and looked at the cabbie. "The correct answer is 'Adam's Apple'."

"That's correct for another fifty dollars, for a grand total of one seventy-five!" he looked at his GPS. "Two blocks to go. We have time for one more question, this is Do or Die time!" He grinned savagely.

Charlie flinched.

"This Oscar winning movie starts off with a white feather drifting on the wind," Ben said. He met Charlie's gaze in his rearview mirror.

Charlie shrugged.

"Amita? Anything?" Ben asked, also meeting her gaze.

"I'm sory, I have no idea," Amita said.

"Can I call my friend again?" Lawrence asked.

"Sorry, you've already used your mobile shout out," Ben said. "You can either guess or use a street shout out."

They all looked around. Charlie spotted their possible saviour first. "He looks like he wants this cab," he observed, pointing to the dark haired man who was approaching from Charlie's side, blithely ignoring the sign on the cab's side that warned peope to enter only from the curb side.

"Well, it's him or no one," Amita said. She looked around and saw several people within shouting distance, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to them.

Lawrence sighed as Ben rolled down the window and unlocked the door.

"Hey," Charlie said, leaning out a little. "We're on a game show called Cash Cab and our goose is cooked if you can't help us get the right answer to this question."

At first, the square faced man looked to be in his early thirties. Another look at the lined face and under the eye bags caused the cabbie to revise his estimate. Ben felt relieved, his passengers might be able to win this game after all.

"This Oscar winning movie starts off with a white feather drifting on the wind," Charlie recited.

The newcomer ran his hand through his dark hair as he thought. "That'll be Forrest Gump," he said after hearing Ben say they were running out of time.

"That is correct!" Ben said happily. "Congratulations! You have just won two hundred and twenty-five dollars in the Cash Cab! You can take the money now..." he waved a handful of bills in their direction. "Orrrr..." he said tantalizingly. "You can go for the video bonus!"

Lawrence made an impatient noise in his throat.

"Here's how it works. I'm going to show you a video and ask you one question. If you get it right, you'll double your money. If you get it wrong, you'll lose everything at the last minute!"

Lawrence didn't even look at the others. "We'll pass," he said firmly.

"You're going to just take the money and run?" Ben asked jovially.

"That's right," Lawrence said firmly.

"Okay, here you go," Ben offered the wad of cash to Lawrence with his left hand.

Lawrence leaned forward and grasped the money with his good hand.

He heard the door slide open while he simultaneously tried to tug the money out of Ben's hand and look at Charlie.

However, Ben did not release the money. When Lawrence raised his eyes to Ben's face, he found himself staring down the barrel of a Glock.

Behind him, Lawrence could hear Amita diving for cover. To his left, Charlie gave a yelp of surprise as he was hauled bodily out of the cab by the oh-so helpful newcomer.

Then there was a loud click in his ear. Lawrence looked into Ben's rearview mirror to see a woman with light brown hair, a grim expression and yet another Glock pointed at his head. Amita was not in view, although the sight of her bag indicated that she was crouched down on the floor in back.

"Give me an excuse, _'Lawrence'_ or whatever your real name is," the woman snarled. She flashed her badge, which identified her as Special Agent Megan Reeves.

"Lawrence" was not surprised when the so-helpful newcomer also flashed a badge and a gun. "Mac Taylor, NYPD," the detective introduced himself.

He looked at the "cab driver", who now flashed his ID (which had a much better picture). Considering who his captives were, he was no longer surprised to find himself face to face with... "Agent Don Eppes," he said dryly. "I had no idea that your job description included hacking."

Don's expression possed only a passing resemblence to a grin. "They cut me some slack, on the condition I don't accept any tips."

"Lawrence" looked at the wad of cash in his hand. "I suppose using fake money would get me into trouble, wouldn't it?" Very carefully, he pulled his hand out of his sling and allowed Det. Taylor to remove his gun. The snub nosed revolver wasn't nearly as impressive as the LEOs' cannons, anyway.

"We'll get your friend, too," Taylor informed him. "Your phone call enabled us to track him down."

"What a pity," "Lawrence" said.

"You might want to turn state's evidence," Taylor suggested.

"He'd kill me."

"I suspect that's what he's planning, anyway," Don said. "Considering you got yourself on TV while kidnapping two people."

"You could have a point," "Lawrence" said in resignation.

To Det. Taylor he said, "Well, why don't we go someplace where we can talk?" he looked around. "It's cold out here." He got out of the cab and looked around. He did not see his former captive, but he sincerely hoped that Professor Eppes had broken something during his percipitous exit.

"Don't mind if we do," Det. Taylor handed him over to a pair of oversized, uniformed officers.

Taylor shut the cab door and Don pulled up to the curb. A few minutes later, Charlie came up to the proper door, cradling his right wrist in his left hand.

"You okay, Buddy?" Don asked.

"Much better than I was half an hour ago," Charlie assured him. "How did you know that we were in trouble?"

"I had eyes on you," Don said.

"You've been _spying_ on me?" Charlie asked, wide-eyed.

"Serves you right, you little sneak," Don replied affectionately. "C'mon, let's get that arm looked at so you can answer some questions for Detective Taylor.

***************************************************************

By the time Charlie had gotten his sprained wrist wrapped and they'd finished satisfying Det. Taylor's curiosity, it ws too late to get to any of the seminars of the conference that had brought them to New York.

"How about dinner?" Taylor offered. "There's a diner down the street that has the best pizza in town, if you don't mind a small lake of grease with it."

"Do they have vegetarian pizza, Det. Taylor?" Amita asked.

"Yes, they do," Taylor assured him. "And call me 'Mac'. We're all off duty now."

"Thanks, Mac," Amita said. "I'm in."

"Thanks," Charlie said. "I'm starving."

"Let's go," Don said. He held his arm out to Megan and she took it with a laugh.

The pizzeria was as greasy as Mac had threatened, but even Amita wolfed the food down with a will.

"So," Charlie managed. "How did you really know that we were in trouble? We didn't even realize it until that man..."

"Smitty Johnson," Mac Taylor supplied.

Everybody's eyebrows went up.

Mac shrugged. "Until we find out otherwise, that's his name."

"Well, we didn't realize that we were in trouble until Johnson came up behind us and told us that he had a gun," Charlie said. His hand shook a little as he took a sip of his beer.

"You won't like this," Don warned.

"I think the worst part was getting out of the hotel without anybody noticing that something was wrong," Charlie said. "So, I want to know who noticed what was going on."

Don gave him that preditor's grin that he had perfected in high school. "Marshall Penfield."

Charlie gaped.

"How...?"

"Marshall had been warned to keep an eye out for Johnson," Megan said.

Charlie's expression was strongly remiscent of a beached carp. Then an expression of annoyance crossed his face. "How come Penfield gets a warning and I don't...?"

Don laughed. "Well, nobody got a tip saying that you were in danger of being kidnapped. Penfield's parents did."

Amita frowned prettily. "Why would anyone want to kidnap Marshall Penfield?"

Charlie ran a hand through his curls. "Well, his parents are very wealthy," he said. "I think they own most of New Jersey." To himself he muttered about it being the only way that Marshall Penfield could have gotten into Princeton, but his heart wasn't in it. "I still don't get it," he said aloud.

"According to Johnson, since they couldn't grab Marshall to get money out of his parents, that they would grab you and get money out of Marshall," Mac explained.

Charlie gaped and Amita broke into semi-hysterical giggles.

"What?" Charlie sputtered. "Why would Marshall..."

"Because he has a man-crush on yoo..uuu!" Amita said between giggles.

Charlie frowned at her and took her beer bottle away. "I'm cutting you off, Dr. Ramanujan."

"Sore head," Amita took the sting out of the words by kissing Charlie on the cheek. Then she swiped her beer back. To a bemused Mac she said, "Long story short, Marshall likes Charlie a lot more than Charlie likes Marshall."

"He likes picking my work apart," Charlie said. "But we're friends, now, sort of." Then, to change the subject away from his 'frenemi-ship' with Marshall Penfield, he asked. "So, how did the Cash Cab get into the picture?"

"We were watching you and when it became apparent that Johnson wanted to catch a taxi, we got ready to commandeer one off the street," Mac said.

"And we wound up with the Cash Cab," Megan added.

"I'd be tempted to ask what are the odds of that happening are," Don said. "But Charlie would come up with a long winded answer and that would give me a headache."

Charlie made a face at him.

"Well, I appreciate the rescue," Amita said. "Maybe I should thank Marshall... in person."

"No!" Charlie yelped in outrage. He scowled when the others laughed. "I suppose I should send him a thank you note or something..."

"We thought we could get you to safety in the cab, but this worked out even better than we hoped," Megan threw in. "Johnson was so distracted by the trivia questions that he didn't even notice that you were going to the wrong place."

"I noticed that Don changed directions when Johnson was phoning his friend..." Charlie said. "So, did you get him?"

"Not yet," Mac admitted. "But we know who he is."

"How did they expect to get away, once Johnson's face was on television?" Amita asked.

"Well, he figured it was too late to back out, once he was in the cab," Mac replied. "So he decided to try to bluff it out by using your friend's name. And he hoped to get someplace that doesn't have an extradition treaty with the US before the show aired."

"Ah," Charlie said. He checked the plate and decided that he didn't want to eat any more. "Well, it's been a long day, guys. I think I'm ready to get back to my nice, safe hotel room. Amita?"

"I'm ready, too," she admitted.

"I'll get you a cab," Mac said.

"Thanks," Charlie said gratefully.

Mac stepped outside. Ten minutes later, he came back in with the news that he had landed a cab. Mac smiled as he assisted Amita into the cab. Charlie crawled in after her and Mac shut the door.

Charlie had just given the name of their hotel when he noticed that Don, who was standing just behind Mac was grinning maliciously and Megan was leaning against a lamppost, laughing.

The lights in the roof flashed and a siren blared.

The driver grinned over his shoulder. "Hello, Professor Eppes, Dr. Ramanujan."

"The Cash Cab?" Amita said. "The real Ben Bailey?"

The Real Ben Bailey laughed. "Yes, indeed. My producer saw the tape from this afternoon and decided that you would make an excellent, not to mention photogenic, pair of contestants."

"You're kidding," Charlie blurted.

Ben shook his head. "Nope, this is the real Cash Cab and you can win real cash."

Charlie and Amita exchanged looks.

"So, whaddya say?" Ben Bailey asked with a challenging grin. "You wanna play?"


End file.
